


A Snapshot

by QueerCannibal



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Canonical Child Abuse, Moogle(s) (Final Fantasy), One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29498076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerCannibal/pseuds/QueerCannibal
Summary: A snapshot look into Sephiroth's childhood, and how he came to possess his first and only toy.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	A Snapshot

**author's note:** I am aware that the timeline is a _little_ off, by like a year, but I don't care enough to fix it. :) 

** A Simple Snapshot **

Tears were something that wasn't acceptable among the researchers. Especially not the scientist Hojo; and while Hollander was a touch less uptight about it, he didn't offer any sense of comfort or security. A few of the lab technicians tried, in their own subtle ways. A gentle hand here, a small half smile there. But they were all shallow gestures. 

Sephiroth was more than accustomed to the harsh fluorescent lights of the examination rooms. The strong smell of ammonia and cleaning fluids. But even so, the combination turned his stomach and made him anxious. This was routine. But even so, he was frightened. 

For as long as he could remember he had been in this place, surrounded by these familiar but alien people. He recognized them by sight, scent, and name, but he didn't  _ know _ them. Well… most of them. He knew the scientists. Because they were the ones who directed these things be done to him. 

He  _ loathed _ the touch of the technicians. Their cold hands wrapped in latex moving across his skin. Feeling his joints and testing his skin and fat. Poking and pinching and prodding. He hated being touched, but he'd learned not to squirm or flinch away. When those hands came for him he would just close his eyes, skin crawling the entire time. 

When the hands left there was no comfort to be had however, because it signaled more discomfort to come. They would push him down, strap him to the cold medical table, and then came the needles. He tried to tell himself not to be afraid of the needles. It only hurt for a second. A sting, nothing more. But he couldn't lie to himself. Because it did hurt. The things they pushed into his body hurt. Burned. And left his skin feeling tight and hot. And try as he might, he couldn't help but cry. 

By the age of three he had stopped screaming. Stopped sobbing, and crying out. Pleading for something, whether comfort or for the pain to stop. Now the tears fell silently, because he knew no one would listen. His tears meant nothing to them. His tears were shameful. He sniffed and tried to keep any pained sounds to himself. Tried to act as if the chastising words hissed at him from the scientists didn't hurt worse than the needles and their poisons. 

By the time the tests were done, and Sephiroth was lowered from the table by a technician, the boy was more than docile. He stood, skin clammy, eyes sore, face wet. He didn't argue when one of the technicians dressed him, thankful for the layers of clothing even if they didn't protect from the chill of the labs much. He looked up at the familiar looming figure of Hojo, heart in his throat, and stomach churning. He always felt a little sick after these exams. 

"Stop that crying, you're fine. Not even hurt." Hojo would always say, sounding exasperated and annoyed while he wrote things down on his clipboard. He hardly ever spared Sephiroth a glance before shooing him away. He had too much to do. Too many new samples to look over. Sephiroth never could understand the disappointment that settled in him when he was dismissed. 

Sephiroth, now just barely six, knew better than to run around the labs, and so made his way dutifully towards the lift. He didn't often require a chaperone between the labs and his quarters. He never got lost, having an excellent sense of direction.

Once in the lift he stood on his tip toes and waved his wrist band at the scanning pad, wobbling on his toes a little. 

"Here." A voice spooe above him, and this time Sephiroth did flinch, shrinking away a little and looking up at the figure who'd joined him. "Going back to your room?" The man asked as he tapped the scanner with his keycard, and the lift doors closed. Sephiroth nodded. 

"Yes sir, Professor." Sephiroth's voice was soft and small. He had always found it best to stay quiet. Why give Hojo more reason to chastise him?

"Good. Then I'll accompany you." The man said, standing beside Sephiroth as theoft began to move. 

The man was tall--at least to Sephiroth--with short brown hair, combed back though it was still a little wild, a dark mustache, and dark square glasses. Sephiroth recognized him as the head of the science and research division. He was the boss. And while not always being directly involved with the goings on, he was considerably friendlier than the other researchers. 

Once the lift came to a stop the two stepped off and began down the hallway together. There were several quarters in this floor but only a few were occupied as far as Sephuroth could tell. 

"You look a little worse-for-ware today Sephiroth. Were the exams particularly taxing today?" The professor inquired gently. He always sounded genuinely interested in speaking with Sephiroth, as if he actually cared what the boy had to say. It was… nice. Refreshing. The man wasn't like the rest. 

"Bit of a war today." Sephieoth admitted and sighed, shoulders slumping a little more. "I managed pretty well in the simulations… but the physical…" 

"Yes, those can be much more tasking than the simulations now can't they? But you survived! You should be proud." 

"...I cried." Sephiroth mumbled. How could he be proud when I cried like a child all because he was afraid of a few needles? He could face the monsters in the simulators but needles made him act like a child. 

A hand settled on top of his head and he came to a halt. The professor rounded him before kneeling down in front of him. It occurred to Sephieoth then that the man smelled sweet, though he couldn't place the smell. 

"There's nothing shameful about crying Sephiroth. Even grown men cry. I cry." He said gently. Sephiroth peered up at him. 

"You do?" 

"Mmhm. It's okay to cry when you're scared. Don't let those fools tell you otherwise. You're a lot stronger than any of them." He stood and stretched a little. "Now come on. Let's get you back to your room so you can rest and recuperate." 

Sephiroth's quarters left a lot to be desired. White walls, white floor, white bedding, no window, and only a single bookshelf half filled with tattered books. All manuals on recorded monsters, scripture, and weapons. 

He shuffled to his bed and collapsed onto it with a groan. His arms ached, and his knees throbbed. He was exhausted. But he wasn't alone… rolling over onto his back he pushed his hair over his shoulder and peered back at the professor who was looking around the room quietly. 

"Hmm." The man shifted his weight from one foot to the other and rubbed at his drooping mustache. "Not a lot of color in here." 

"Professor Hojo says it's for sleeping. There's no reason for anything else." 

"But this is where you spend your free time. There's no stimulation. A growing boy needs stimulation. A means to fill the quiet hours." He tapped his cheek thoughtfully. "Ah, I'll be right back." He said suddenly, turning on his heel and exiting the room, door sliding closed behind him. 

Sephiroth blinked, brow wrinkled in confusion and tilted his head to the side slightly. The professor was the nicest person Sephiroth had encountered in his life, but he really didn't understand him. 

A few minutes later the Professor returned, a package in hand. He crossed to the bed, and set it down on the edge. Sephiroth stared at it from where he sat, then glanced up at the man who chuckled and gestured to the package. 

"Well go on, open it." 

Unfolding his legs, Sephiroth scooted across the bed and pulled the package closer. It was wrapped in a simple twine, which he easily untied before opening the paper. He blinked and pulled out a soft plush. It was white and fuzzy, save for its dark purple bat wings and red pom pom at the top of its antenna. Sephiroth glanced back up at the Professor. 

"What is it?" 

"Its a moogle. Well, a moogle plush." The professor said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

"Moogle?" 

The Professor staid with Sephiroth for another hour, telling him stories about the Moogle race, and all the while Sephieoth held the plush on his lap. His thumb rubbed against the soft material while he listened, occasionally looking down at the toy. He'd never had a toy before, he didn't exactly know what to do with it, but he liked it. It was soft. 

"I've never seen a  _ nice  _ monster." 

"Well, not all monsters are monstrous. Some just aren't like us. That's all." The professor stood and ruffled Sephiroth's hair. 

He hated touch, but from Gast, he didn't mind so much. The professor really wasn't like the others. 

"Now you get some rest. You've had a busy, busy day." 

Sephiroth settled back against the pillow and watched the professor head for the door. He held the stuffed plush close against his chest. 

"Professor Gast."

"Hmn?" 

"Thank you, for the plush. And the story." 

"You're welcome." 

It was only a few months later that Professor Gast disappeared. No one talked about it, or seemed to think anything of it. But Sephiroth was sure the man hadn't simply transferred. There was too much tension among the scientists for it to be that simple. 

Walking down the hall towards his quarters, moogle tucked under his arm Sephiroth paused at one of the other quarters, looking up at the door. He stepped up to it and pressed his ear to it. He couldn't hear anything. Whoever had been in there was gone. He stepped back, gazed steadily at the door for a moment longer before turning and continuing on his way to his room. He needed to get dressed. Put on his best. He was accompanying Hojo and Hollander to a meeting of some sort. He hadn't been given many details. Though he had overheard one of the technicians mention there would be other children there. Sephiroth had never met another child. Part of him was apprehensive, but another part was excited. Maybe they'd like him. 


End file.
